


Second Nature

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Reality, Cineplex, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Meet-Cute, Shameless Smut, Smut, accidental date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Tom had only imagined he would treat himself to the guilty pleasure of a bad Christmas flick on his own, but when seat G8 is occupied by the love of his youth, the day takes a sudden turn and old emotions are rekindled.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	Second Nature

Tom’s leg bounced nervously and made the popcorn tub shake on his lap, dangerously close to spilling on the floor of the Cineplex. His mother had promised him a weekend of doting on Tim so that he too could treat himself on his own for once, but he had only dropped off his son with her an hour ago and already he was fretting with concern. He wondered who it was he was worried for. Tim had always been a cheerful boy, better behaved than most with that big heart of his. Whatever his parents had in store for the kid, he was certain that Tim would easily comply. What he would do with his time alone, though, still remained to be seen.

The movie was a start, some Christmas flick. He had not gone to the theater in years, as Jane had never cared much for movies and Tom had loathed to force her − or to go on his own. She was no longer here to pull him off his ass to do whatever she pleased. He missed the face she would make when he offered a date idea she disliked, how she would drag him to a bar instead with too many people and too loud music to loosen his tongue. He talked even less these days than he had at the time, but what was there to say when he no longer had anyone to say it to?

The room was packed with people all in groups and families. High schoolers he knew here and there, even a couple of Tim’s friends with their parents and siblings, everyone was chatting merrily with the spirit of the holiday season. Of course, he could hardly see another single in the crowded dim room. A few weeks away from Christmas, there was no one who went out on their pathetic own. He sighed. At least the seat next to him was free. When the lights would go down, he would drop his things there, make himself comfortable against all anxiety gnawing at him despite his mediocre efforts. He had never been much good at taming it.

"Excuse me, so sorry…"

People grumbled, sitting up straight to let the newcomer pass across the row all the way to seat G8. Tom abandoned his plans for comfort. Staring up at her, much of what he had imagined of the day fell apart entirely and his mouth dropped open with an odd mumble.

"Becky Barnes…"

She looked as lovely as ever in his thoughts except much more so, something more mature about her, a woman grown from the girl he had known and let go. Seeing him sitting there, she gasped and clutched her chest, but she had not said a word that the lights went down and someone whispered loudly for her to sit. As polite as she had been, she rushed to sit down, taking off her coat in all the narrow awkwardness of a theater seat. Commercials began to roll out, more than Tom ever remembered playing in his youth.

"Hi," she said in a low voice, mindful of their neighbors.

"Hey."

They looked at each other. She was smiling broadly, a grin that took over her whole face, her gray-blue eyes as she halfway turned to him. How many years since they had last seen each other? Yet when he thought back on high school, it was the exact same face he had pictured all those years, the face on his prom photos, the silly pictures they took at the mall and hung up in their lockers, the pretty face he had used to know by heart and think about day in, day out. The huge bright screen cut her features in half, a part of light, a part of darkness. He smiled back.

"How, erm, how’ve you been?" She asked.

Tom did not know how to answer truthfully. He had been asked the question a thousand times in the past year and he had told as many lies, even to the people who meant the best. His mother, his father, his son, his friends… Becky Barnes.

"Good," he said. "Great, erm, how are _you_?"

"Can’t complain," she replied and she sounded every bit as nervous as him. Tom had never remembered her as a fretting sort of person before, but then he was but a shadow of who he had been fifteen years ago. "So you, you came without your kid?"

He chuckled awkwardly, wondering how solitude looked on him here.

"Yeah, he's having a sleepover at my parents, I thought I'd just... treat myself or something... Dad needs fun too!"

Becky quirked an eyebrow with a smile in corner and Tom wanted to slap himself. Fucking moron he could be.

"I mean... I mean because I like movies and..."

He felt like an idiot, but then what else was new? Becky stared wordlessly for a few long seconds.

"Me too. I haven't been in years, I've..." She leaned against the back of her seat, looking very soft all of a sudden, very comfortable. "I've missed it."

"Shh!" Someone said from behind and Tom realized the movie was starting.

Santa Claus Is Going to High School was as mediocre as Christmas movies went. Tom sat back comfortably, trying to stop his leg from bouncing, trying to stop his heart from fretting. He was a damn idiot, he kept telling himself. No grown adult ought to be in the state of frenzy he was finding himself in, yet he kept throwing glances at the seat next to him as if he was afraid Becky Barnes would no longer be sitting in it by the time Kris and Noelle made their first move. He had not felt like this since… He did not know what to think of the realization that the last time he had been so affected had been with the very same Becky, only two lifetimes ago.

When Father Winter put a deep spell onto Santa Claus, she was so startled she clutched Tom’s arm tight. An accident, he was sure, or an old habit from having sat in those seats so many times back forever ago when they were young. Still, his arm tingled as if the touch of hers was just as magical as the silly movie he could no longer focus on. She was as embarrassed as he was or perhaps yet more and immediately drew her hands back, tucking them under her as she kept watching. Tom looked at her, her frowny face intently staring at the screen and nothing but the screen, the anxious way she was biting her lips inside, making a bulge of her cheeks. She dared a glance his way and he pretended he had been looking at the movie all along.

When Noelle invited Kris to eat with her friends at the cafeteria, Tom offered Becky his popcorn. Rushed by whatever it was that went on in her life, she had come without a snack and with some hesitation, she took a small handful she pecked at very slowly, savoring each kernel. He placed the bucket between the two of them and very soon they were both serving themselves from it.

"Thanks," she mouthed at him, and Tom only smiled and shrugged.

Things were going down and fast. When Father Winter’s spell broke out, she held his arm again, except this time was deliberate. Except this time she never let go. Tom felt warm and hot with the touch and when he looked at her, he thought he could see even in the darkness her cheeks a deep flushed red, but neither of them said a thing. Their arms remained entwined. A few times, he thought he felt the faint touch of her fingers brushing against his, except it was gone by the time he noticed it. She never looked at him again until the lights went back up and he was blind and blinking with them.

"Well, that was a loss of two hours," she frowned. She pulled from his touch as if pretending it had never happened in the first place. "I mean… Not seeing you, just… the movie was a bit, erm, underwhelming."

Tom smiled awkwardly as seats began to empty around them. Families going home, teens surely hanging out in the mall before inevitably doing the same. Years ago, they had used to come here all the time and as he sat comfortable in seat G7, he wondered if even the seat had shaped itself after his butt all those years ago. He had probably gotten too fat for that now.

"I thought it was fine," he said, though he could only remember very few snippets of the movie the more he tried. "I liked it."

They stared at each other. If he moved and left, then he might never see her again. If she left before him, he might never live with himself. But then, when had he ever?

"You wanna go grab a drink somewhere?"

Their table was tucked in the farthest table at the back of the coffee shop, so far back they could not even see the outside but what else would Tom have sought to see if not the face of Becky Barnes? They had ordered hot chocolates, though those were downed by now and still they were here, chatting and reminiscing and feeling warm and alive. He had never been much of a talker, so Becky did the talking for both of them. She was excited to tell him all about her work, the children she worked with, books she had been reading, sights she wanted to see. Tom seeped it all in, occasionally sharing anecdotes about Tim. Time rolled under them without any end on sight before Becky looked at the clock on the wall and her mouth narrowed in something of a pout. She seemed to hesitate greatly before asking.

"I don’t have any plans tonight," she said, stirring her spoon slowly into the empty cup, staring down at her hands on the table. "If you’re free… I could cook up something for us, we could have a quiet night, hang out at my place…"

Her hands were so close to his, a distance Tom dared to breach and he held them in his. They were small too, warm and his touch drowned them. In her gaze, he felt so important, so worthy. Like he still had the tiniest power left in him of making her happy if he so chose.

"I think that sounds great," he replied and the fate of the evening was sealed on them then and there.

The tension between them in the car was electric, sparking all the more between furtive glances at one another that left them grinning to themselves as they stared at the road onwards together. Becky drove them to her house, which was small and as lovely as could be, everything as pretty as she was. A foreign, lost part of him remembered his past teen self cutting out dating tips from magazines bought with his pocket money, carefully arranging all advice he could find till he gathered enough courage to ask out this Becky Barnes with all this new knowledge. Compliments, he remembered, though that one had come to him naturally then as now. Though perhaps not eloquently.

"I love what you did with the, erm… the home. It’s really nice. The decoration and all."

She smiled timidly as she put away their coats and looked around the place like she was seeing it with entirely different eyes. A cozy little living room was attached to a larger kitchen, with a small hall at the end that could only lead to the bedroom. Flowers on the coffee table, books in a messy pile that showed how often she read them, a sense of peace and quiet. No luxury, but the best of what she had, he was sure.

"Thank you," she said with something soft about her voice. "I’ve only just moved a little while ago, but well… Home is where your cat is."

Said cat was sleeping delightfully awkwardly on the couch across the room, but Becky ushered Tom to the kitchen before he could have a chance to introduce himself. She put on a kettle to brew tea and began preparing a pile of ingredients to make a meal for two.

"I’ll help you," he offered, grabbing the cutting board from its hook next to the stove.

"You don’t have to," she said. "It’s my treat."

"Then this is mine," he replied. "I wanna help."

Together, they made a labor of love. Becky was the steward of it, now as always, and she instructed him on what was to be done. Her guidelines, his obedience made bit by bit something delicious they ate at the kitchen table, more staring at each other than talking. He was feeling very warm, so content to be around her. After doing the dishes together, they retired to the couch where she sat comfortably, her legs tucked under herself. She was holding his hand on his lap, a fact neither of them seemed willing to mention out loud.

"I think you’re the first person I’ve invited here since…"

Her voice trailed off. She had not spoken of the husband who had left her all day. Tom had heard the most basic rumors of her being scorned, but no more than that. He had had his own misery to tend to, but around Becky it seemed that the priority was elsewhere. He would not push her to talk of it, no more than he wanted to discuss the woman he had married with the one he had not. The very idea was improper.

"It’s not cleaned up, I just wasn’t expecting to have, erm, company."

"Well, you’ve made a good home," he said. The cat was on the other side of him on the couch and he was scratching her neck gently as she purred. "Becky, you… you’re doing great. You have this cute place and, and I like your cat and you’re just…"

Becky leaned up and kissed him. It was a soft kiss in the spur of the moment, born of affection more than passion but Tom had barely registered it that she pulled back and covered her lips with her hand.

"I’m sorry!" She blurted out. "I’m so sorry, I don’t know what… Oh, shoot…"

Tom stared at her fussing over herself, blinked. He felt like he was floating through the moment. He hardly felt like himself, but yet perhaps more himself than he had been in ages, a Tom that wanted and craved and felt. Her face in his hands, he kissed her and felt alive again. The cat jumped to hide behind the curtains.

"Oh, Tom…"

She was a small thing, but fierce in his arms now that the gap between them was breached and she pulled him half on top of herself, almost lying down in a mess of hormones and limbs. Passion pulsed through every part of him and it seemed that every sensation was becoming sharper, more defined the longer they made out. His emotions too, muddied earlier in the day, were falling in line and he was confident in a way he had not felt in years − not since Becky had made him so the first time.

"You’re so pretty, Beck," he muttered at her lips. "You haven’t changed one bit. Still gorgeous."

He kissed her cheeks, her neck where he breathed her in and felt in himself a surge of comfort, of assurance. For a moment, he was invincible, no longer the broken old Tom weakened by pain and grief. He could only feel joy now, only solace. Only desire.

"You smell so good," he said, groaning as her fingers combed through his hair to guide him. "You wanna… ?"

"Uh huh," she nodded. "Yes."

He knew he was smiling with something much deeper than the fleeting satisfaction of getting laid tonight. It was something more sincere, more profound. Still, it never hurt to be wanted and there was desire in every touch of Becky’s hands on his hair, his shoulders, in the look they shared, never straying from one another.

"Then I’m gonna."

He kissed the round of her breasts over her shirt and his hands ventured underneath as his kisses traced a path down decidedly. Too many layers between them when he was craving to feel her close, but Becky stopped his hands there, four of them covering her breasts and for a brief moment, she paused and frowned.

"I’d rather the shirt stays on," she said softly. "Is that… is it okay?"

He nodded. He was getting hard just from the touch of her fingers on him and he thought that any possible request she had of him, he would have complied with.

"Sure, yeah. But do you want me to…"

He kissed her stomach over the shirt, then the bare skin just underneath the edge of it. Becky’s breath hitched.

"Please."

Their fingers worked together on the knot of her sweatpants and he tugged them down enough to claim his prize. His hands parted her thighs a little, his lips kissed up inside till his face was buried between her legs and he felt truly content. She was burning hot under his tongue, delightful and delicious. Just a taste and he was craving more, the whole thing.

"Tom…" Becky moaned and her grip tightened in his hair as if guiding him. If she was, then Tom would let himself be led wherever she would have him.

One-handed, he pushed open the button of his jeans to take himself in hand as he touched her, the fingers of the other hand pressing inside of her to feel just how wet, how warm, how loose he could make her. The caress of his lips too, though most of all he was certain that all pleasure was in the look they shared the entire time. It was in the way she held on tight and rocked herself into him, nothing forceful for Becky was always gracious, but unmistakable. How light he felt, he who was so inclined to sabotaging his own happiness. He was living it wholly now.

"You like that?" He asked.

He was asking more for foolish pride than out of any doubt. Under his tongue, he felt very well how drenched she was from his attention and when he paused for a moment to take a look, he found her so very pink and swollen he had to dive right back in to taste it for himself.

"Yes," she said. "Don’t stop."

"I’m not stopping."

He would not deprive himself of this joy, not when she demanded it so plainly. Tom had always lived to serve. Flicks of his tongue at her clit the way that made her squirm the most, the way that made her moan loud and unashamed. Fingers pressing in and out, adding a third. He let go of himself to flatten a hand against her stomach, but Becky pulled his palm to her breast up under the shirt and Tom obeyed that order too, rolling a nipple under his thumb. He felt life pulsing through every cell of his.

"Oh, Tom…" She whimpered as she came. "Just like that, Tom, don’t stop…"

He could not stop admiring her from down here and even when she was done, he wished he could sit there on the rug indefinitely, his cheek against her thigh staring up at her adoringly. Becky had other immediate plans.

"We need condoms," she said, sitting up straight so abruptly Tom fell back on his ass on the floor.

The way she pulled up her pants made it look like she was dancing and she grabbed her coat from the rack in the entrance before Tom could even process she was no longer here and warm against his cheek. He pulled himself to the couch.

"I’ll go grab some," she said. "There’s a corner store that should be open, I’ll… be right back."

Before he could move a finger, the door slammed behind her and he heard the footsteps dash away so quick he wondered if she was running. This filled him with a pride he had not felt in many years, the thought of being so wanted. He glanced at the cat, who was peeking through the doorway of the bedroom.

"Hey, bud," he smiled. "C’mere."

He tucked himself back in his boxers to be more presentable and coaxed the cat into friendship, rubbing his fingers together to attract her.

"C'mere, I'm not gonna hurt you..."

The cat was purring on Tom’s torso by the time the door opened again and he was petting her generously as if they had been buddies all her life.

"You’re such a good kitty…"

He stopped immediately when he noticed Becky at the entrance. His mouth gaped open awkwardly and he told himself he would have been far less embarrassed if she had come home to find him masturbating on the couch waiting for her. Not that the thought was completely out of the question now that she advanced towards him with a seductive swing to her hips and a wicked smile at her pretty lips. They were smudged from kissing a little bit.

"Bedroom," she said with confidence and passed him right by − perhaps ignoring the incident altogether was the best course of action for all.

Tom glanced down at the cat and pressed a kiss against her furry head as he put her down.

"Later, bud."

Becky snatched him by the collar the moment he passed the door and closed it behind him with a loud slam. Making out all the way to the bed, they stumbled back a few steps, the mood kindled again in but a moment’s notice. Becky pulled the tank top off of him, tugged his jeans hastily down.

"Still up for it?" She asked him, even though she knew him better than to ask.

"If you are," he replied and she gently pushed him back to lie across the bed.

His dick in hand, he felt half an idiot staring at her with a goofy grin he couldn’t help as she struggled with the strings of her pants, shimmying out of them bit by bit. She smiled back at him and he was a happy idiot. She passed the box of condoms to him and he all but tore it open in his haste. He was no longer quite used to those and fumbled just as much as she had with the pants, but inevitably he was wrapped up and Becky eyed him hungrily.

"It suits you to be a man," she said and straddled his hips − Tom grabbed a pillow to make himself all the more comfortable, gazing up at her from under. "The beard, the hair, everything. It looks good on you. You’re nothing like the boy Tom."

He blinked lazily. Becky had made herself in charge of their lovemaking and he would happily obey. How much more if she paid him such pretty words for no reason. She took him in her hand and he loved how close he felt to her then in the glance they shared. She smiled and seized his wrist to make him feel how wet she still was from earlier, how much she still wanted him. Their fingers around him, they guided him inside and Tom let out a sigh of relief he ought not to have been holding in.

"That feels really nice," he muttered. His hands caught at her hips, stroking from her thighs to her waist, those lovely curves softer than in his memory. "You feel so good, Beck."

"And you too," she said. Her hands flattened on his torso as she leaned a little on him to better the motions. It was as though they moved as one, the way her hips rocked into his and he paid it right back.

They had learned this old dance together after all. Her first time all those years ago. Many other times had followed, then all the years of Jane, but when he looked up at Becky tonight, all he could see was the girl he had adored that first time, the way he had opened up his heart to her. How horny out of his mind he had been, too. The same now as then, he gave his heart he had thought broken and inept. He hoped she would know one day what she was receiving. A pathetic version of the Tom she had known, but he still loved her with every fiber of his being. Maybe that was enough for her.

"Hold me close," she said in a low voice, leaning to kiss him and staying there.

Tom held her close. She seemed to like this, though who was to say it had nothing to do with how much deeper he pushed up inside of her so, a new rhythm they built again. He felt the obscenely wet slide of every in and out, and how hard he was, burning up from there and into the rest of his body. He didn’t mind the fabric of her shirt between them, no more than he minded that she seemed to be slowing down, enjoying every moment more fully. Making love with every kiss, every touch. He was certain that their hearts would be beating at the same drumming pace.

"I’m close," he sighed. "C’mere."

He sat up to slide a hand between them, confident he could snatch a second time from her if he put in the effort. His thumb flattened against her clit and every roll of her hips pushed her into the touch. He came before he could stop himself from the way Becky looked at him enamored, but still kept going, holding and touching her, kissing her delicious lips, showering her with all the love he was craving to let out. He was oversensitive and a little itchy and he was sure he would not last much longer, but with a loud groan into the next kiss, he felt her clamp around him and they fell into a limp pile of exhausted limbs. Being a man, he thought, ought to have come with the stamina of his youth, though he had himself to blame for the shape he had lost. He felt completely spent, utterly satisfied.

"That was nice," she said, soft like a purr.

She pulled from him like a cat stretching in the sun, all elegance. Just like that, it was another routine from youth in motion, getting rid of the condom, cleaning up at the same time, a kiss at her temple as he passed her in the bathroom, and then crashing back into bed together, eager to hold onto each other. Another round of intimacy they had not lost, or perhaps they had but it was reborn again.

They cuddled without a word for a long time. At first comfortable, Tom began to let his thoughts wander and they had a way of roaming free in the darkest places unchecked. Tim at his grandparents, the poor boy. Not yet a full year since they had buried his mother, yet here was Tom in another woman’s arms. And not just any woman but the very one Jane had never suffered. The one who made him feel alive and young and free. He gulped painfully and held Becky all the closer, who took his need for reassurance for a selfless gesture of affection. She nuzzled his neck, lounged all cozy half on top of him. Her hair smelled sweet.

"If you’re having second thoughts," she said, who read him like an open book after all, "I understand, you don’t have to… We don’t need to go all in."

His fingers were caressing mindlessly against the bare skin of her back under the shirt. So tender, so warm. Tom never felt as good as when he had someone to hold onto, someone to love. For years, the memories of Becky had clung to him even when he had had such a person. It wasn’t the same, it never had been. Jane was different. Becky was different. For years, he had wanted both, the wife he had cherished and looked up to, the sweetheart he had lost first. Whom he had found again.

"I'm not having second thoughts," he said. It was a lie, but only a small white lie of courtesy more than deceit. He was not having remorse, at least, which convinced him that his conflicting emotions were his own to handle. "I'd do it again. I'll do it again."

He felt her smile against his shoulder, the round of her cheeks so soft on his skin. As long as he could still make her smile, he had no reason to doubt himself too hard.

"What are _you_ thinking?" He asked. "I know it's... Well, it's not what I expected today when I woke up. How do you, erm, how do you feel?"

Becky looked up, leaning on an elbow comfortably. Her fingers tapped against his chest playfully.

"Alive?" she said. "Tom, don't worry about me. I've... I've needed this. You. I've always..."

Her words trailed off and she fell back on top of him, cuddling close again. Tom's arms embraced her and pulled her to him to kiss the top of her head.

"You're so good to me, Beck."

She nodded and he loved the caress of her hair with the motion.

"And you’re so good to me."

His doubts might linger for some time, the guilt he felt for the wife he had lost and still missed. Tom had tried all these years never to mention Becky, not even to think of her, yet only now that she was in his arms again was he realizing how much more deeply he had missed her than he had allowed himself to think. The weight of her on him, the warmth, soft skin and soft smiles, how kind and compassionate. Dark clouds parting to let a beautiful sunrise shine down on him.

"We'll see where it goes," he said simply. Everything about the afternoon and evening had unfolded so naturally from them, easier than any part of the past year. An effortless bond so easy to reforge. "I wanna see you again. Don't have to rush into it, don't have to hold ourselves back either."

"One day at a time," she agreed. "One date at a time."

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice."

He spent the night without asking or being asked, only because the thought of being away from her close embrace seemed impossible tonight. Even into the night, they kept talking and though very little was said about the many years they had missed on, those seemed fewer than ever now that he was with her again. He told her about his son, she told him about her cat, and he could only guess that she was avoiding talking of her spouse as much as he was. One day, perhaps, he might tell her a little more, but he was too happy to spoil the mood. He had not felt happy in a very long time.

They woke up warm and cuddly in the morning, kissing softly between the sheets till Becky proved him wickedly what other miracle her mouth was still well capable of. He groaned, let himself be doted on, and after a lazy breakfast in bed, repaid the favor in full (and more) in the shower they took together. All morning they spent together till after lunch, which they made themselves in a too small kitchen for two, she told him she had an evening shift.

"I’ll just go home and… I dunno, wait around till Tim comes back tomorrow, I guess."

She gave him a teasing smile as they both readied themselves to go out. Putting back yesterday’s clothes on, he wondered if he had ever done such a thing, spending the night away from home after a date. He could not remember.

"Well, don’t let me spoil your lovely plans," she said.

"You couldn’t," he replied. "I’m… I’m so happy we saw the movie yesterday. Next to each other."

She was more earnest now, no longer teasing.

"Me too. I’m very happy, Tom."

They looked at each other. She would have to drive him back to the Cineplex to get his car. He had to go home, probably clean up a little without the boy to mess up whatever effort he put into a neat home. Becky had to go to work, probably save lives or at the very least make them better, lighter, longer. He knew she had his.

"You wanna go see a movie again some time?" He asked. "Next week?"

Becky kissed his cheek, arranged his collar. She was grinning as she replied.

"It’s a date."


End file.
